Much to my mother’s chagrin, I’ve had the “should we move in together?” talk with my boyfriend a few times at this point in our relationship. The conversation typically begins with me sitting in sweatpants and no makeup with a pizza box on my lap, asking if he thinks I’m pretty. Then I briefly touch on the beauty of his exes, wonder aloud when we’ll get married, and then I finally navigate back to that hot button issue of whether or not we should sign a legal contract ensuring that we’ll be together for at least one more year. The conversation typically ends with him saying “huh?” and turning back to whatever game is on the TV, as he ignores me for the next 22 minutes or so. At this time, I move from the couch to my bed to drunkenly cry to my mom.
Moving in together is a pretty big fucking deal–even idiots like myself know that. You’re pledging to spend every second that you’re not at work together and you’re signing a legal document that states unless one of you dies, y’all better stick it the fuck out for 12 months. You’re agreeing to pee with the door open while your boyfriend brushes his teeth, you’re acknowledging that you sometimes Nair your upper lip, that he spends 27 minutes in the bathroom reading the newspaper every morning, and that both of you still sleep in retainers and nose guards. Like I said, it’s a big deal, one that shouldn’t be taken lightly. Once you do it, once you take that plunge, there’s no going back. It’s do or die, make it or break it, marry me or get the fuck out.
For a lot of couples, moving in together is the start of a new chapter in the relationship. It means that they’ve likely opened up a joint banking account, that they trust one another financially, that they are comfortable enough with each other to wear glasses and not shave for three weeks–or something like that. For others, however, moving in together brings out skeletons that were better left hidden in the utility closet of his parents’ basement, things like weird fetishes or toenail clipping art or…turning your home into an arcade. Yeah, weird shit like that. It doesn’t just happen in the movies anymore, it happens in real life.
Falling under the category of “Worst Fiancé Ever” is a weirdo from New York who, after moving in with his lady friend, decided to turn his apartment into some sort of delusional shrine to his childhood. Chris Kooluris, the deadbeat boyfriend in question, apparently had trouble selling his apartment after he moved in with his lovely fiancée. Instead of renting it or lowering the price or whatever it is that normal adults who own property would likely do, Chris was like, “You know what? This is a sign from God that I should sell all of my furniture and purchase $26,000 worth of arcade games to furnish my now empty apartment.” I mean, he likely didn’t say that exact quote, but he did do that exact thing. Seriously, he sold all of his shit and filled his apartment with video games and toys. This dude–who is supposed to be mature enough to get married–sold his furniture so that he could buy tens of thousands of dollars worth of things that entertain an average 7-year-old. Unsurprisingly, Chris’ fiancée was like fuck. this. shit. and totally dip set, leaving him alone with an apartment fit for Tom Hanks from “Big.” Apparently he’s happy, but, like, after making that stupid ass decision, he doesn’t really have a choice. He has to say he’s happy. Dude’s got to own it now.
I mean, best of luck or whatever, Chris. You’re totally gonna die alone. Mazel.
[via NY Daily News]